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Many years ago I was playing Schubert's sonata, D. 960. My wife came downstairs afterward and told me that while I was playing she heard voices singing so painfully sweet that it brought tears to her eyes. She believes they were angels' voices.

pianoloverus
Yikes! 10000 Post Club Member
Registered: 05/29/01
Posts: 21721
Loc: New York City

Not exactly unusual but once after playing at a senior center a elderly man came up and without saying anything gave me a refrigerator magnet with tiger's head on it as, I guess, a present.

Another time while I was playing a woman starts saying VERY loudly "Why do they let him play! He so bad and he's ugly!" The next time I played she came up to the piano, and I was expecting the worst. She said " I really love a man who can play the piano so well!"

Then there's the time during a performance of Amahl and The Night Visitors when i got so transfixed by the soprano playing the Queen that I forgot to play my part for the first around three minutes.

pianoloverus
Yikes! 10000 Post Club Member
Registered: 05/29/01
Posts: 21721
Loc: New York City

Originally Posted By: Minnesota Marty

What Queen?

This production was maybe 35 years ago so I may have forgotten the characters. I'm talking about the main adult female character in the story. The production used very beautiful and elaborate costumes from, I think, the original NYC production or the Pro Musica Production. So I may just be remembering how this woman looked in her costume. Maybe I'm thinking of the Mother in the story?

Not sure this is the kind of thing you are looking for, but I had posted this on the Adult Beginners forum about 3 years ago... I suppose you could call it unusual alright.

I was invited to perform the special music at my college graduation ceremony back in June, 2009. I was flattered to no end that they would ask me to perform at such an event. I had about 2 months to practice my song, (“Wind beneath my wings”). I practiced it and practiced it and practiced it some more and felt comfortable about my upcoming performance. Everybody that heard it told me how good it was and how much they enjoyed it.

A few weeks before the graduation, I got to practice on the 9 foot Kawai concert grand at the facility (a large church in the area) a few times. I thought I was all set. I was comfortable with my arrangement of the song and my playing and singing.

On the day of the graduation, (with an expected attendance of about 2500 people) I got to the church a couple of hours early and practiced some more. I felt really good about my pending performance. As a member of the faculty of the college, I had to march in with the faculty. While we were standing in line, a couple of the faculty members asked me what I would be performing and I told them ‘Wind beneath my wings”. They (two men) began to make jokes about my song. They were sarcastically singing “wind beneath my wig” and “you’re not my hero” to each other, like children, even though they were supposed to be educated professionals. Those silly comments by my colleagues really bothered me. In fact, it bothered me a lot, but I didn’t want to give them a piece of my mind at that moment; but the comments were even more detrimental to my nerves, my fear, and my performance anxiety.

Next, there was a quartet of professional musicians who were hired to play the marching music, “Pomp and circumstance” when the faculty and students were marching in and out. One played the violin, one the flute, one the cello and one the piano. They were very good musicians, by the way. And, for some reason I was extremely nervous to be competing with those professional musicians (even though it was not a competition, per-se). Plus, I was further intimidated because they were sitting so close to me when it was my time to perform. They were within arms length and I could just feel their eyes trained on me sizing me up and scrutinizing my musical ability to no end.

All this tension and excess anxiety that I was not expecting, more or less, got the best of me. In spite of all the practicing I had done and all my good intentions, I was as nervous as a cat. At the moment it was my time to perform, I was wishing I had declined the invitation to perform. The pressure was enormous. I thought to myself that I am too old and too poor of musician to put myself in this position. There I was, in font of all my colleagues, the president of the college, board of directors, local and state dignitaries, and community business leaders and all the graduates and their families. I began to feel really uncomfortable to the point of being nauseated and sick at my stomach.

As I made my way to the piano, through the maze of professional musicians, who had moved my microphone from where I had it to start with, and sat down at the concert grand, I was almost ready to have a heart attack! What was I doing there, I thought to myself. Why am I punishing myself this way, I thought to myself. Okay, it was my turn and all eyes were trained on me. There were TV cameras there and two large flat panel viewing screens for all to see. As I sat down at the magnificent concert grand piano and began to play, my wonderful introduction completely escaped me. I messed up immediately with the introduction. I thought to myself, O-my-God, I can’t believe this is happening!

Once I fumbled around with the failed introduction I was back on course and things seemed to be going a little better. I was trying to smile and act like I knew what I was doing. I tried to focus on my task at hand and my song that I had practiced probably hundreds of times. As I proceeded with the performance, things were a little better and the song was coming together and sounding pretty good, as far as I could tell. I remember cameras flashing and I would glance up at the huge monitor and see myself sitting at the piano. I knew I had to follow through and make the best of the situation. I kept thinking about those musicians sitting right behind me and next to me. I thought about how they must think I’m the worst musician they have ever heard, and what was I doing there. I thought to myself, O-my-God, I have screwed up in front of all my colleagues, administrators, graduates, and their families. While I was performing, I was fantasizing that I was crawling inside of a dark whole somewhere so no one could see me and I was at peace, and not under the immense pressure I was under. I thought about how my dream come true had suddenly become a nightmare.

As the performance continued, parts of it were good, as I had rehearsed it many times. Then, as my thoughts wondered and I lost my focus again, I missed a beat in the measure. Maybe someone who was not familiar with the song or music wouldn’t notice. But, I’ll bet those professional musicians sitting beside me noticed.

Anyway, the closer to the end of the performance I got, the better it sounded. The ending was much better than the beginning and I got a big round of applause from the audience. When the president of the college got up to introduce the guest speaker, he had some flattering words to say about me and my musical ability. So, the performance was not a total disaster.

What did I learn from the experience? The art of recovery from a musical fumble during a performance is just as important as the art of a flawless performance. Do nerves and anxiety play a role in a musical performance? Absolutely!

Sorry for the long post, but after I reread it, it did seem like a good read!!

Rick

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Piano enthusiast and amateur musician: "Treat others the way you would like to be treated". Yamaha C7. YouTube Channel

About 15 years ago I was hired to play music before a large convention in Muncie IN. which featured famous Notre Dame coach Lou Holtz. I had a couple of minutes to spend time and meet him before the show started. I felt proud to have this chance. After the musical intro, including "Hail hail to Old Notre Dame" they introduced Holtz. He instantly recognized me as he said "Let's have a hand for 'Mike'". MIKE??? I'm Bill WTF! My second story happened several years ago in Chicago at my Nephew's wedding reception. The graciously asked me to play the grand piano at the hotel for the reception dinner. I was playing standards and a little Fats Waller, when my beloved Step-Mom came up to me and said "Why don't you play something we know" Well, I belted her on the spot! Oh no, I just dreampt it, but I have never let her forget that line! We still laugh about that night.

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Marriage is like a card game, you start with two hearts and a diamond, later you wish you had a club and a spade!Yamaha G7 Yamaha CVP75 digital, Allen 3500 theater organ

So true about the recovering from a fumble. While in college, we had a talent concert and I worked on memorizing Chopin's Ballade #1 and the rest of the other pieces, I used sheet music for the duets (Scriabine Fantasy for 2 pianos and Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #2). While playing the slow parts of the Ballade, I completely blanked out and forgot several measures worth, but was able to fumble through a bit and get myself back on track. It was a most harrowing experience!

Many years ago I was playing Schubert's sonata, D. 960. My wife came downstairs afterward and told me that while I was playing she heard voices singing so painfully sweet that it brought tears to her eyes. She believes they were angels' voices.

Unusual, not really, but here's one from my college days. We had a guest soprano giving a recital, and she had her own accompanist, of course. One of the faculty was supposed to be the page-turner, but he didn't show. So at the last minute, they grabbed me, since I was a piano major.

I felt like a milk-bucket under a bull. The performers were dressed to the nines, I was just in jeans and a windbreaker. (It was an afternoon recital, not an evening concert, so I didn't dress up.). I wasn't familiar with the music, but I could sight-read ok, so they thought they were relatively safe with me.

Wrong.

I guess the hour of the recital, combined with a lack of mature appreciation for German lieder, made me zone out. I stood up and turned a page, not realizing that my eyes had skipped a line. In one continuous motion, the pianist turned the page back, slapped my hand, and hissed at me. If I felt awkward before, it was only magnified after my blunder. I spent the rest of the recital cowering in my seat next to the piano, rising timidly to turn the pages as necessary.

Some of my friends afterwards thought the show at the piano was more entertaining than the singer! They watched through the rest of the performance for any other humorous mishaps. I was only too happy to disappoint them.

Sadly, I had a similar experience turning pages at a wedding. I am not a great sight reader, but the pianist ended up having to nod her head before each turn, and I still messed up a couple of times so she had to swipe the page back. Embarrassing!

In college, I was a double performance major on flute and piano. On one of the music subscription concerts, Jean Pierre Rampal and Robert Veyron-LaCroix were scheduled to perform a recital. The day before the recital, at the flute master class, Monsieur Rampal invited me to be the page turner at the recital. I was honored.

Both my flute and piano teacher gave me a pre-recital prep. The performers would be in formal tails and I should be in a tux, where to walk on stage, and general stuff like that. Backstage, before the performance, I was summoned to Monsieur Veyron-LaCroix's dressing room and thoroughly discussed when he wanted the page turned. Largo or lento required a two measure lead. A molto vivace was a full half-page before. Wow!

At the performance, after the opening sonata and after they had taken a bow, they both turned to me with hand and arm extended to indicate that I should also. Gulp! With much embarrassment, I rose and could do nothing more than rapidly blink my eyes at them and the audience and sat back down very quickly.

Backstage, Rampal, with a big grin, told me to actually take a bow and not just stand there "like a grinning idiot."

Nobody had tipped me off that the duo always accorded the courtesy to the mere page turner!

Lucky was a cat. He almost made it to 18 years old. He was born about the time of the Northridge earthquake. My brother's ex-girlfriend saw a kitten standing in the middle of Broadway in downtown Los Angeles. She scooped him up and brought him home. He eventually ended up with me.

When we moved to the condo, he went into the more advanced stages of kidney failure. He was very sick, and didn't have much time left. This is the story I sent out to the family about him:

Lucky’s last days were kind of interesting.

A year ago, my piano teacher assigned me Chopin’s Prelude in E minor. It looks simple on paper, but it’s very hard to get it to sound right. They played it at Chopin’s funeral, and it is a very appropriate piece. It’s slow and melancholy sounding, perfect for funerals. About a month ago, around the end of September, I was working on it once again.

The condo was completely dark, the only light was illuminating the sheet music. The prelude was actually sounding pretty good. Very good actually. Maybe too good.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, in the huge walk-in closet, a shadow moved past.

I stopped as the temperature in the condo seemingly plunged 20 degrees. A chill ran up my spine and huge goosebumps broke out. I stood up and went to look in the closet but had to stop, as I felt an icy grip around my heart. Slowly things went back to normal. I turned on all the lights. No way do I believe in ghosts, but this was way too weird.

My prelude had conjured a haunt! According to the documents, no one had died in this condo, so what's this?

Now, Lucky has slept with me at night for 18 years, since he was a kitten. After we saw the haunt, he refused to enter the part of the condo with the closet and the bedroom. I'd pick him up and put him on the bed, and he'd jump off and leave the room right away. Really strange.

Mary Jo had another theory, it wasn't a ghost, it was the Grim Reaper come looking for Lucky. Naturally, he wanted nothing to do with the Reaper. So for a month he slept alone on top of the power chair.

The weekend before last he pretty much stopped eating anything. Not even treats. I always gave him a treat after shooting the pill down his throat, but now he no longer wanted treats.

Last Thursday night he went outside to drink from his special water bowl on the patio. Later, I stuck my head out the door to check on him and he was gone. He had squeezed under the gate. I spent an hour looking for him, no luck. We’d been going for walks around the condos in the afternoon lately. I had a feeling he was looking for something. He’d go up whatever stairs we’d pass. I think he was looking for his old spot upstairs on James Circle. I checked out all the places he’d explored, but no luck.

I figured that was the last I'd see of him. That he'd done the cat thing and went off to find a place to die.

Later that night, at 3 am he came back meowing to be let in. It must have been too cold out! He came in, and I picked him up and placed him on the bed. (He was getting too weak to jump very high) For the first time since we saw the Reaper, he stayed. Having already made up his mind it was time, he no longer feared the Reaper in the bedroom.

I went into work Friday, took care of some things and went home with the intention of taking him in to see Dr. Lee. Maybe something could be done to restore his appetite. Dr. Lee was booked, they said bring him in Saturday morning.

So Friday I puttered around the condo. Lucky spent his time outside, laying on the sidewalk in the sun, or under the bushes. I’d check on him from time to time. He wasn’t walking too well. The old ladies in the complex would walk by and fuss over him for a bit.

When it got dark, I brought him in and sitting on the couch, we watched the Cardinals win the World Series. Mary Jo showed up with dinner and Lucky sat with her a bit.

He spent his last night, Friday, in the bedroom, also. In the morning, he was very lethargic. He meowed to be let off the bed, he was too weak to jump. He made it on his own power to the water dish on the patio. I gave him his pill and vitamins, and we got ready to go to the vet’s, fully expecting to bring him home for a few more days anyway. We wrapped him up in the green and white afghan from Grandma. I brought along a couple of bandanas, just in case.

Dr. Lee took his temperature, it was 94. Normal is 101. His kidneys had shut down to the point where the pills could not compensate anymore. His blood was full of waste. He was starving to death. He was really listless laying there on the exam table.

We stayed with him all the way. When he passed, there wasn’t that much difference in the way he was before. So we did the right thing.

When I play the prelude now, all the lights are on in the condo.

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GaryEssex EUP-111 at the mountainsW. Hoffmann T-122 at the beach

I really sympathize. We have had a loss of our own this past week. Our little black cat, Shadow, passed away after 20 years with us. No piano connection as I always kept the cats out of the piano room, but I wanted to let you know that we all understand that they are members of the family and will be missed a lot.

Let me tell you a cat story that I hope will bring some laughter. A neighbor came home in the afternoon from shopping and found the family cat dead on the back steps. She figured that the cat had been injured my a car and had come home to die. She took a shovel and placed the cat's body behind a bush. She surely didn't want the kids to find out when they returned home from school. Later that evening, at dinner, she suddenly remembered the cat, and said to her husband: "Dear, the cat was K-i-l-l-e-d t-o-d-a-y. young Mike, 5 years old, asked " Daddy, what is Mama saying?" The husband replied, "Son, Mom is saying that 'Puff', our cat, has gone to sleep for a long long time". Jenny, who was 7, spoke up and said, "See, we clubbed the little bastard with a brick, and I told you, he's just sleeping it off" I have always loved this story, even though I am a cat lover. Hope you all laughed, and no one took offense.

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Marriage is like a card game, you start with two hearts and a diamond, later you wish you had a club and a spade!Yamaha G7 Yamaha CVP75 digital, Allen 3500 theater organ

#1 Wedding. Pre-service music. And for a hymn and chorus. They had recorded music to enter and retreat.

I was ill - had fever, dizzy spells, but dragged myself there. I got home, my wife tells me that half way through the hymn, I stopped completely, missed 3 or 4 beats - she glanced across and my head was bowed - and my head came up, and I resumed in exactly the right spot. I knew nothing about it.

#2 Evening Service - on organ. Mosquitoes had decided the organist was dinner. I was in shorts and long socks - very '70s casual. Told afterwards that partway through a hymn I calmly swatted a mosquito - on several occasions. I remembered the mozzies, but not the swatting.

I was at a Gospel Quartet convention once and there was a great Quartet on stage. I was in the audience, but was there because a quartet I was playing for was competing in a competition earlier in the day. They had some sort of cheap piano, I think it was a Wurlitzer spinit. When I played it all was working okay.

Anyway, back to the quartet on stage. During the singing I noticed they had a brilliant pianist who was just rocking that little spinit. The quartet decided to do a feature of the pianist and let him play a solo. On about bar 8 of his solo the sustain pedal disconnected and he had no sustain whatsoever. The song he was playing was full of arpeggios that absolutely required the sustain pedal for proper effect, but the poor guy looked as miserable as any pianist I have ever seen and soldiered through the solo with no sustain pedal. It sounded choppy and wierd, but it certianly wasn't his fault. I felt sorry for the guy.